The Face
by shadowglove
Summary: Young Chloe is scared of the masked people who always congregate at her parents home, the people who used to be mean and call her a squib until she woke up from the long sleep. Then she met the one with two faces, and he wants her to 'heal' him.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville/Harry Potter**

Written for my LiveJournal Paranormal25 150 Prompt Table. Prompt of the day #91: Cult

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Holding onto her mother's hand, the child looked around her, frightened by the masks and the robes. She trusted her mother and father, and knew that they would never hurt her, or allow any hurt to come to her, but ever since she could remember, those people would congregate in her home, doing things that were supposedly impossible. She never saw their faces, never knew their names, and knew never to speak of them to anyone else. The young girl didn't understand why they were a secret, or how they could come through the chimney the way they did.

Mother spoke of magic, father spoke of their lord, but she didn't understand it.

She was still too young.

When they spoke of muggles and spies and of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World she paid no mind, bringing them the tea her mother asked her to.

She supposed they viewed her as a pet.

Some even seemed to _scorn_ her.

They called her a _squib_.

She didn't know what this was but it made her angry.

She wasn't a squib.

She was a _girl_.

It was as simple as that.

It was only after the accident on her seventh birthday that they changed towards her.

Chloe only remembered pain and screaming and coldness.

And then she'd been sleeping.

And then she was _awake_, her mother crying and holding her tight, her father watching in shock. She'd been surrounded by those ones in masks, they'd been about to do something, a ceremony maybe? She didn't know. All she knew was that after her _long_ nap, there was no more pain, and they were _nice_ to her. They whispered about miracles and someone named Nicholas Flamel and about Sorcerers Stones. They whispered about leaders and immortality and she wondered _why_ they now brought her gifts, _why_ they now took off their masks in front of her. _Why_ they no longer called her a squib.

It was only, when at the age of eight she met the stuttering man with the face behind his head, that she truly began to understand that her life was abnormal.

The sight had terrified the child at first, and she would have fled the room had her parents not been prostrate before the man with the two faces.

Mother called him Lord.

Father thanked all holy that he had returned.

Both pushed her closer to the one with two faces, those eyes staring at her, eager, expectant, nearly _greedy_.

"Come now..." His voice was nearly snakelike as he spoke to her. "Come to me, child. I will not hurt you."

She'd sent a look towards her parents before trembling as she went towards the back-face, the one with dominance in this body.

"What is your name?" He asked, motioning for her to sit.

"C-Chloe, sir." The child whispered, gaze falling to her shoes, not _wanting_ to look at the monstrosity.

"Look at me when you speak, Chloe." The face commanded, mutated, grotesque, and with complete authority.

"Yes sir." She looked up at him.

"_Lord_, Chloe!" Father hissed from where he was, face bowed to the ground. "_Lord_."

"Lord." She was quick to correct, scared and confused and only wanting to _leave_.

"You may call me My Liege." The face told her, as if he were honoring her.

"My liege." She parroted, anything to end this conversation, anything to be away from this fear, from this _thing_.

"Do you know why I am here, Chloe?" He asked her.

She shook her head before remembering to add the title. "No my Liege."

"It is because I have heard from my most faithful, of _you_. And I have come from my hiding to see _you_." He motioned for her to sit as he did, his body facing away from her and yet _this_ face was towards her. "I heard that though you do not manifest the spontaneous magic those of purest magic lineage as yourself do at your age....that you came back from the _dead_."

"I was sleeping." She brought her hand to her head, thoughtful, looking at him though she desperately wanted to look away. But his eyes caught hers and it was as if it wasn't _her_ mind anymore. It was being prodded and probed, memories being delved through, until the day of the screaming and the pain occurred, the day of the long sleep.

And then...and then her mind was hers and he was _smiling_ at her.

It was a scary sight.

"You have a very deep, very ancient and _strong_ magic in you, Chloe." He spoke. "You are powerful."

She was confused.

Powerful.

_Her_?

"Yes, you." He nodded, as if he could read her mind. "I have heard of how you now heal in minutes without magic being cast on you, and how you can withstand magic being cast on you to harm."

What...what was he talking about?

Magic being cast against her?

"And I know that death...death is not a barrier for you." He was eyeing her with that greedy expression, like that fat kid who constantly looked into a candy store while on his way home from school. "Do you know why I'm here, Chloe?"

"You said that it was to see me...my Liege." She whispered.

"It's not only that." He replied. "You have great power, Chloe. Amazing power that I can help you cultivate. I want to _help _you."

She paused. "...Help me?"

He nodded. "But first, I need you to help _me_."

The child looked up at him in confusion. "_How_?"

"Before you were born, I was..._hurt_...and that it why I am the way I am today." He replied after a moment's hesitation. "I need you to _heal_ me."

"Heal you." She echoed, confused. "_How_?"

"Only you know how." He spoke softer, more soothing, lulling her out little by little, of the terror she'd felt. "Only you can help me, Chloe."

The child was confused, and looked to her mother and father for support, for clarification, but they remained with their faces to the ground.

Taking in a deep gulp, Chloe stood, the ten year old looked from her parents back to the _face_, before taking in a deep breath. "I---when I get hurt---I----my mother gives me a kiss to make it better."

Mother and father made odd noises.

The face looked _amused_, offering his cheek with regal movements. "Then do."

She didn't _want_ to kiss him.

He was gross and scary.

He was a _face_ on the back of a _head_.

But---but she was scared, and her parents seemed scared, and he---he was a face she didn't think she should cross.

So the girl-child took in a deep breath and knelt on the sofa before the face, looking into his eyes before reaching up to grab his face.

A couple of the mask-people gasped in horror.

She pulled her hands away in terror.

That face glared fury at them before returning back to her. "It's okay."

The child, still shaking, reached for his face again, before taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes as she leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "All better now." She whispered, as her mother would do for her when she was hurt, and she imagined, _wished_ him better.

For it couldn't be easy, being the face in the back of a head, when you had once been something else.

And then it was bright.

And then it was dark.

And then she woke up, tired, sleepy, and in a bed she didn't recognize.

"You have awoken. _Good_. I was beginning to wonder if you'd sleep forever."

The child turned towards the voice, scared green gaze falling upon a handsome young man of around twenty years of age, sitting on a chair in the darkest corner of the room. He had silky jet black hair, dark eyes, regal _robes_, and an intelligent face.

"Who are _you_?" She asked, sitting up in bed, noticing Wibbly, her stuffed pink elephant, in bed next to her. "Where I am? Where are my parents? What am I doing here?"

"You are here because your parents are very loyal in their service to me," he announced, standing with liquid fluidity as he stalked towards the bed, leaning against one of the posts as he watched her, arms folded over his chest. "You are to remain here in my charge until such a time as I decide to send you away. If I ever do."

She reached for Wibbly, hugging him to her racing heart. "_Why did they send me here_?" Tears came to her eyes. "Mommy and daddy love me."

"But they love me _more_." He announced in amusement before sitting down on the edge of her bed. "They left their world to live amongst the _inferior_ to give my followers a safe place to meet while searching for me. They believe in the beauty of my cause, and so will _you_, my little princess."

"Princess?" Chloe whispered, eyes wide at the word. "_Me_?"

He nodded. "You have power beyond anything I have ever thought _natural_." He reached out and touched her hair.

There was a knock on the door.

He pulled his hand from her, standing, face a dark sneer. "Enter."

The door opened to show a repulsive fat man. "My Lord..."

"What do you _want_, Pettigrew?" He snapped.

"Dinner has been served, My Lord." The man sniveled.

"We will be there. Now _depart_."

The man scurried away, like a rat.

The handsome man turned to her, extending his hand. "Come, we will dine, then you will tell me more about yourself. I am intrigued with you and your astounding power."

She hesitated, before reaching for his hand and letting him pull her out of bed.

"What---what's your name?" She asked softly as he held her towards the door.

He looked down at her and smirked. "You may call me My Liege."

Chloe's gasp was cut off by the door closing behind her, as the face who was not a face anymore led her away towards her future.

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**Right. Odd. Random. I know. lol**

**Review?**


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